Wilanów is becoming an iconic place where worldview, politics, business, and even consumer preferences intersect. All because of the scandal surrounding the construction of a Polish Dino supermarket in Wilanów. Residents of this nouveau riche district in the capital had no problem with the barrack-like Museum of Modern Art in the city center or with a 300-meter stretch of road near the facility that cost over 30 million złotys. They don’t object to endless concrete or to living window-to-window with neighbors. But they were frightened by the prospect that Poland’s “backward folk” and “rabble” might come shopping at a cheaper discount store. This group of supposedly wealthier people still fails to understand that they are not the center of the universe—and their attitude is becoming increasingly ridiculous, writes Grzegorz Wszołek in Gazeta Polska.
In Zawady—until the early 1950s just a village outside Warsaw—a Dino is being built, scheduled to open between late 2025 and early 2026. A piece of news that should surprise no one. A day like any other, one might say. Yet this investment provoked such enormous opposition from Wilanów residents that it electrified the media, with Gazeta Wyborcza at the forefront. And since that paper is the patron of the “lemmings,” it became their platform for pouring out complaints. In an article tellingly titled “The First Dino Store Is Being Built in Warsaw. ‘It Looks Like a Chicken Coop,’ Complain Residents of Wilanów” we get plenty of despair from interviewees, but nothing concrete. The store will “look like a chicken coop,” one lady misses a stone façade and worries something resembling a shop in some town like Przasnysz will rise near her home.
German Lidl and Portuguese Biedronka Are Fine. But a Polish Store?
Architecture is a matter of taste. True, Dino—with its sloped roof and bright red sign—may not appeal to everyone. But do the nearby Biedronkas or Lidls add elegance to Wilanów’s landscape? Certainly not. Meanwhile, there are three Biedronkas in this district. Interestingly, when a Biedronka was built in 2012, forums also echoed with dissatisfaction. But not with such exaggeration, nor with talk of a “lower sort” of retail unworthy of elite shopping. One resident mocked online: “I can already see the crowds coming for one-złoty beers from near and far. Of course, there’ll be lots of parking spots and a lovely atmosphere.” Outraged at the destruction of the “wealthy” landscape of upscale houses, apartments, roundabouts, a main road, and lots of concrete. Many frowned more than a decade ago—but there were no petitions (today, over 300 signatures), no open letters, no pleas to block the investment.
The initiator of the action to stop Dino’s construction on Syta Street is left-wing councilor Daniel Kość. While agreeing that the store doesn’t fit the landscape, he points instead to possible blocked access roads and the nearby roundabout once shoppers arrive in droves. He also worries about noise from delivery trucks. That’s what Gazeta Wyborcza’s interviewees should have started with. But no—the residents of “Lemmingrad” are worried about lowering the comfort level in their wealthy neighborhood. And they openly show contempt for others, especially Polish—implicitly “Janusz-level”—business. Because what really bothers them, as online comments reveal, is the idea that Wilanów will become “provincial.” Interestingly, these petitions and protests exist only in the media. “The Mazovian Voivode has not received any notifications or objections from Wilanów residents regarding irregularities in the construction of the Dino supermarket,” said Joanna Bachanek, press spokeswoman for the Mazovian Voivode. Proceedings on the Zawady investment have been concluded, and the Voivode gave the green light for Warsaw’s first Dino. The protests amounted to nothing, serving only to spark a flood of memes showing “luxury” Dino stores for the nouveau riche. Residents achieved the opposite of what they wanted—they became a laughingstock online and reinforced their image as isolated even from other Varsovians, who are unfazed by the first Dino in the capital.
It’s Not Just About Dino, but Also Politics
The Dino uproar reflects more than the detachment of Wilanów residents. It highlights a deeper problem—where politics meets worldview. In this district, Rafał Trzaskowski won 77.72 percent in the second round of the presidential election. Residents would vote en masse even for a horse, as long as it had a liberal or left-wing party stamp in a contest against PiS. Radosław Sikorski was the first in PO to sense that the right was mocking the elitist attitudes of district residents and tried to redirect the debate with a simple message about restoring normality. He quickly reacted to Patryk Jaki’s comments on the matter. “They are known for demanding that Rzeżucha Street be renamed Arugula Street because ‘arugula’ sounds European. Now they’re protesting a Polish Dino hypermarket, even though just down the road there’s a German Lidl and a Portuguese Biedronka,” noted the PiS MEP. The Foreign Minister—apparently unbothered by more serious duties of state—retorted on X that Jaki was engaging in “idiotic propaganda” and admitted that he himself shops at Dino. Why did he even speak on this, against his Wilanów electorate? Because more and more voters want “normality.” Not LGBT parades, flashy cars, and houses bought on credit while working for minimum wages in foreign corporations. Normality means respect for Polish business, for the countryside, and for the less well-off. If the government—soon to be headed, perhaps, by Sikorski—wants to stay afloat politically, it cannot disdain “Poland B,” even for short-term electoral games.
Returning to Dino—for contrast, in Rożnów, where I often go because I have family nearby, locals had been eagerly awaiting a store for months. It was to be completed in June, but finally opened in early July. Residents of this village in Lesser Poland and surrounding areas are pleased—they pay less than in nearby shops. The nearest Biedronka, until now their only cheaper option, was nearly 12 km away. They praise Dino’s meat section, with its own supplier, and don’t care about roof design or tight parking. They work, many still farm. How are they worse than Wilanów’s wealthy? Only in that they vote right-wing and go to church. Karol Nawrocki received nearly 78 percent of votes in Rożnów.
The comical protests against Dino in Wilanów are not the first of their kind. Remember the uproar over beach windbreaks on the Baltic that so distressed celebrities? That too was about mocking poorer people who couldn’t afford all-inclusive seaside resorts. Who, instead of sipping cocktails in expensive hotels, bought the cheapest drinks and brought them to the beach. Or the complaints about breastfeeding mothers and noisy children in restaurants and public places—followed by wringing hands over Poland’s demographics. It’s the exact same mindset as with the Dino scandal.
Contempt and a Baseless Sense of Superiority
The contempt regularly served up by those who see themselves as elites is perfectly illustrated by the public statements of anti-PiS sociologist Prof. Radosław Markowski, once famous for checking guests’ Orlen cards during Daniel Obajtek’s presidency of the company. “These farmers, looking at their air-conditioned tractors, should be asking themselves where they came from. Not from their hard work. They were EU investments—our money,” he declared on the pro-PO radio station RebelianT. And there it is again—the disdain for those who think differently, for the poorer, for those seen as less educated or too rural. Out of this sense of superiority comes the debate, ongoing since 2015, about why Polish “backward folk” don’t vote as they’re supposed to. As dictated by the elites. The only pity is that these self-styled better people often can’t even file a proper election protest—copying someone else’s PESEL in the form—or submit a formal objection to an unwanted development. That’s where their “elitism” ends.